


Candlelit Love

by Rozjozbrod



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom, Marvel, fitzsimmons - Fandom
Genre: Canon verse, F/M, First Kiss, Marriage Proposal, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozjozbrod/pseuds/Rozjozbrod
Summary: It was incredible, really, the various forms their love could take.Sometimes it burned hot in their chests and every touch was a lightning strike. Their lips were searing, hands wandering, and hearts pounding as they tried to keep up with their own passion for one another. They bumped into walls and grabbed sheets tightly in their hands, moaning and gasping in equal parts lust and in equal parts utter disbelief that their hands were blessed enough to know one another like this.





	Candlelit Love

It was incredible, really, the various forms their love could take. 

Sometimes it burned hot in their chests and every touch was a lightning strike. Their lips were searing, hands wandering, and hearts pounding as they tried to keep up with their own passion for one another. They bumped into walls and grabbed sheets tightly in their hands, moaning and gasping in equal parts lust and in equal parts utter disbelief that their hands were blessed enough to know one another like this. 

Other times, their love was bluer than the deepest seas. Looking at one another from across a crowded room was almost unbearable; it was raw and it was frigid to the touch. Their tears were never far from spilling, and the mere memory of better days was enough to make them fall, hot over their cheeks. Silence had both a weight and a noisiness to it-- the two of them tried to pretend that their hearts weren't dissolving into dust and blowing away in the cold wind, fragile as glass. 

Their love was young; around each other they laughed easily, spoke without hesitation, and orbited each other like the planets they studied so reverently. They were dewy, pink faced with the prospect of their futures, and shone with a hope and optimism untarnished by the harsh outer world. In their hearts, they held a childish innocence. Every scene was bathed in low golden light, midsummer sunsets, and pleasant acoustic music floating from the speakers. 

Other times, their love felt as old as the world itself, as deeply ingrained in them as anything they'd ever known. The mountains, the oceans, their love . . . all had been created carefully and artfully at the beginning of all days and would last until the fire finally burned out and the earth spun no more. In darkness they clung to one another, and used their stubbornness and unflinching loyalty to one another as flashlights. 

And sometimes, on wonderful and rare nights, their love was gentle; it was candlelit and undeniable. They spoke in whispers or perhaps they didn't speak at all, just taking simple comfort in the quiet company of the person they loved so much and not needing anything else. 

On a calm night in early autumn, they lay facing each other on their bed, the lights low and the sounds of busy people far from their minds. Their foreheads touched gently and their legs were wrapped together, hands tracing the soft lines and curves of one another's faces in the fading light. If you'd asked either of them to describe paradise, it would have been there. 

Jemma’s hair fanned out across the pillow and her cheeks were pink with affection for the man who held both her hands in his own, kissing the tips of each finger. She could be contented to just watch him for eons, she thought dimly. The final rays of evening light slanted through the window, catching in his eyelashes and the blue of his eyes. He looked like art; every inch of him was so familiar to her she didn't know where she stopped and where he began. And suddenly, Jemma had to punctuate their comfortable silence with words she didn't know she needed to say until that precise moment. 

“Marry me.” She whispered, barely audible, her heart radiating love. 

His lips ceased their kisses and his eyes found hers across the mattress. Despite still being in a drunken haze of their own candlelit love, they were clear when they met hers. 

“What?” He breathed back. 

“Marry me.” She repeated, scooting closer to him. “Will you marry me, Fitz?”

He exhaled, and his warm breath blew softly against her face. Waiting patiently for an answer, she looked at his lips and his cheeks and she caressed the stubble on his jaw. He closed his eyes at the feeling, then, much to her dismay, he pulled himself from her embrace and sat up on the bed, the light from the window patterning his back. She couldn't see his face, but propped herself up on her elbow, watching him closely. 

“Fitz?” She asked, quietly. 

He stood, unspeaking, and padded across the floor to the closet they shared. Opening the door, he rummaged around in his clothes and Jemma frowned, confused, biting her lip. His unenthusiastic response was considerably less than she’d hoped for and it hurt. Just mere moments before, she'd been so warm. 

“Fitz, I-” She began, her voice tight and quiet. 

Then he turned, and her eyes fell to the black velvet box in his hand. Her heart flooded with adrenaline and affection, her mouth opening in surprise. 

“Yeah, I've had this for a while.” He told her, almost sheepishly, at her wordless reaction. 

She rose from their bed and floated to his side, clasping his hand in hers. It trembled slightly. “How long?” She asked, a little bit desperately, when she could find her voice. 

He looked up at her and grimaced. “You won't laugh?”

She cocked her head, almost exasperated. “I won't laugh.”

He took a breath and smiled at her. “Jemma, I've been in love with you since I was sixteen years old and you, quite forcibly as I recall, told me that I was doing the entire Chemlab wrong.”

“Fitz-” she rolled her eyes. 

“I just knew, you know? When you looked at me with your goggles on and your perfectly color-coded notes and told me I was an idiot-” His voice was light and mocking and she flushed. 

“I did not say that-” 

“But I bought this,” he whispered, all traces of mocking gone and his voice filling the room with a new, softer emotion, “the day we first kissed. I knew, Jemma, I just knew that after you, there wouldn't be anyone else. But I think I had known for a while.” 

She was breathless. She remembered vividly; the way his eyes had filled with passion and he'd pulled her face to his, pressing her against the lab table, was something she'd be hard pressed to forget. 

“I carried it around with me for weeks, wondering if I could ever work up the courage to ask you.” His lip trembled as he spoke and her heart flushed. 

“Jemma, I fall in love with you a little bit more everyday.” His voice was sincere and she reveled in it. “I've been yours since I was sixteen and pimply and shy and not worth your time-”

“I loved you then too.” She said. “And you've always been worth my time.”

“Well, there's a lifetime ahead.” He leaned into her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. 

“Is that a yes?” She asked, nuzzling into him. 

She could feel him smile. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. . .”

With each word, he kissed her. On the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth, her forehead. Then his lips found hers and they were soft and felt like coming home. 

When they finally broke apart, his hands were twisted softly in her hair and they were both breathing heavily. 

“Yes.” He whispered once more.


End file.
